


Shades

by vix_spes



Series: MI6 Cafe Spectre Prompts [12]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 23:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q and Bond ponder the many different shades one colour can have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades

Q had never really paid much attention to just how many different shades one colour could have. Oh, he was more than aware of the inordinate varied hues that could make up a sunrise over the city of London or the vibrant colours of the graffiti covering an abandoned building round the corner from his flat, but he'd never really thought about the many different shades of one colour you could get. At least he hadn't until he embarked upon a relationship with James Bond. The colour in question? Red. Three particular shades of it in fact. All of which were now associated with various things.

The worst shade of red as far as Q is concerned is scarlet. The colour that signals emergencies. The colour that the little dot symbolising an agents tracker turns when their life has been extinguished. He's only ever seen it twice in the short space of time since he became Quartermaster and both occasions still haunt him to this day. The first was M and of course that was going to stay with him, watching as the flashing green light that represented the indomitable head of MI6 turned scarlet and ceased all activity. The second time was 007 himself, about two months after they lost M. Q had been furious with himself and had scoured all of the mission logs, desperate to find out where he had gone wrong, determined that it wouldn't happen again if he could help it only for Bond to waltz into Q-branch several weeks later gloriously tanned and bearing some sort of exotic sweetmeats for Q by way of an apology.

That was before Q became involved with Bond, before things became so much more complicated. Q is invested in all of his agents and would do anything and everything within his power to bring them home. With 007, with James, he's so much more than invested. He's inextricably linked to the agent, utterly entwined and he isn't entirely sure that, now they're bonded, he knows how to live without James Bond. Q lives in fear of the day when he might have to watch the tracker in Bond's body turn scarlet for a second time-. The day when James' phoenix like ability to resurrect himself finally fails him.

The second shade was another one that Q hated. Crimson. The colour of fresh blood. Q has seen it far too many times for his liking since he had become Quartermaster. Normally blooming on the clothes of his agents when, if, they took a hit. He had only seen it in colour a couple of times – both times on Bond, which hadn't really helped Q's stress levels – but that didn't make a difference. The colour was seared permanently into his mind, however much he may wish it wasn't.

The third hue was another one that he didn't particularly like but was far better than crimson and scarlet; carmine. The colour of dried blood. This was one that Q saw frequently in connection with Bond. Taking Bond's sheer hatred of medical into account, Q had lost count of the number of times since they had got together that he had been the one to wash the carmine coloured flakes of dried blood from Bond's skin, watching them swirl away down the drain. Q supposed that the biggest problem that he had with the carmine coloured streaks and smudges was that, at some point in the not too distant past, they had been instead been free-flowing crimson liquid. Bond's lifeblood.

If you were to ask James Bond how he felt about the myriad different shades of red, he'd probably look at you with the same expression he reserved for medical. A look of complete and utter disdain. He simply didn't think that way, what was the point? Red was red. It was as simple as that. He had long since become inured to the colour of blood whether it be fresh or old and it no longer had any affect on him other than maybe a sense of annoyance. However, if you were to push him, he would tell you that he was particularly fond of the range of reddish hues that Q's skin would take on. The deep red, almost purplish hue that his skin turned when Bond felt the need to mark Q as his own, the ruby red tint to Q's lips when they were kiss-swollen and the rosy flush that would spread across his pale skin. All of them shades that only Bond would ever see.

So many shades, so many meanings.

One colour.

Red.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/211828.html)


End file.
